learning to listen

The 'art of counseling' is all about going where the client needs to go, letting the client lead the conversation, doing what's best for the client. Each of my professors has a different mantra that essentially states the same idea. And that idea is not one of complexity. Even to those of you who are not currently studying clinical mental health counseling, I would imagine it sounds pretty simple.

Well, as it turns out, it's not.

My tendency is quickly move in to "fix-it" mode, which is generally the last thing that clients need. It results in me pushing them to a place where they are not ready to go, or in my trying to make them fit into a box that is completely irrelevant to what might actually be concerning them. When I get busy thinking of how to solve their problems, I unavoidably tune out them out with at least one ear, so my mind can more efficiently multi-task. With only one ear tuned in, I only hear half of the information, which leaves us disconnected and far from finding the peace and hope that they crave.

What. a. mess.

Thankfully, I am still a "counselor-in-training," which means I have time to improve and mentors in my life to assist me. However, noticing this detrimental pattern that I seem to slip into so often has brought a parallel to mind in my own life, and it's one that needs attention now.

I so often struggle with going where Jesus needs to go, letting him lead our conversations, and doing what's best for him (and consequently best for myself, for that matter) with my life. It's so hard to step back and listen,  to commune with him and to enjoy the time spent in his presence, hearing his story. I hear just enough to give me a few clues as to how I might be able to step in and "fix" whatever I deem needs fixing, and then I'm off to the races, without pausing to hear the rest of his heart for me in that moment.

We serve a patient God, full of grace and undying love. Thank goodness.

I'm recognizing my need to slow down and listen. And that means listening without an agenda, or without my to-do list hovering in the back of my mind. Active listening, which requires both ears tuned in, and soaking up every nuance of his countenance. Taking note of the way he gazes at me with compassion and thrill. Savoring the sound of his voice, the voice that he uses only with me, so that I may hear it and know it. And the words of his beautiful, intricate story that he has invited me to take part in.

That is most definitely worth listening to.

-Britni